


Ingredients of Survival

by wonderluck



Category: Alien: Resurrection (1997)
Genre: Competency, F/F, Minor Character Death, Misses Clause Challenge, Yuletide 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:13:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2807255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderluck/pseuds/wonderluck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You do what you have to do to survive. (Or: Ripley kicks ass and Call has lots of feelings).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ingredients of Survival

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maharetr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maharetr/gifts).



> For the prompt "competency." Thanks for giving me a reason to write this pairing again. Happy Yuletide!

From atop the hill overlooking the ruins of Paris, Vriess and Johner sat exhausted with their backs against the Betty's hull while Ripley and Call planned their next move. Ripley wanted to split up the group to make it harder for the military to find them—easier to hide two than four. Call grumbled about it but agreed. From their vantage point they could see a handful of the streets in the city were clear while the others were clogged with rubble or trash; they couldn't tell yet. 

They took Johner and Vriess into the city. Call didn't want any harm to come to them after they parted ways. Ripley's motivation was simple: she didn't want Call to worry. 

It had passed midday, but the sun was still beating down on them. Johner and Vriess struggled in the heat, and Call nearly dragged Johner the last bit down the hill. 

Navigating through the streets became more difficult as they edged into the city, but it made for better cover. Debris was strewn everywhere: broken furniture, hollowed out cars, refrigerators missing their doors, heaps of paper, a downed tourist helicopter, broken glass. Call searched the cars along the way until she found one containing a map and pocketed it. The volume of empty shell casings littering the ground was the most unsettling thing about the city—some were rusted through and some hardly tarnished. Whatever people were fighting over was still an ongoing issue. It did not comfort them.

The streets directly ahead contained the most intact buildings that remained. Shadows flitted in front of the windows. The streets were quiet. Ripley stopped the group. 

Call looked to her. "How do we know they're not already here?"

Ripley nodded. She remembered that the USM had had military bases all over the world. She could only imagine how far their reach was now. 

They backtracked and swept silently through the city, searching for a place to take shelter. Entire blocks were piles of cement and brick. Freestanding doorways led to nowhere. A sand-worn backhoe sat useless in the middle of the street, the articulated arm having fallen off. In her previous life, Ripley had seen these used as excavators during rescue efforts. With only one in use to dig people free, the death toll must have been high.

They found a concrete pad over the basement of a blown out industrial building. It wasn't sealed, and a jagged gap in the cement was large enough for them to crawl through it. Ripley knelt and listened. She stuck her head in the gap for a brief moment, leaving it only long enough to sense if there was someone inside the room. 

Call tried to stop her. "Ripley, I'll look. I—" 

Ripley got to her feet, hands going automatically to her hips. She quirked a brow at Call. 

"My mistake. _Of course_ you can see in the dark." Call feigned exasperation, but a small smile crept through.

Declaring the basement empty of squatters, Ripley went down first to get a better look. Pipes ran the length of the ceiling on two sides. Supporting beams were scattered throughout. Situated against opposite walls stood a series of cement archways holding latched wooden doors.

She climbed back out, tossing a few dead rats out ahead of her. Johner leapt backward with a disgusted noise, nearly falling over. Call pressed her lips tight, trying to contain her laughter. Smirking, Ripley watched Call struggle until she faked a cough, covering her grin with one hand. 

One at a time they dropped down into the basement. Ripley pried the latches off two of the doors that led into brick-lined storage spaces. As she pulled the first door open, the infuriated squeak of old hinges echoed through the room. Vriess and Johner were positioned in the space furthest from the elements, while Ripley chose a space for her and Call close to the opening. 

Call offered to be the lookout while Ripley slept. She needed the sleep less. Ripley wasn't convinced.

"You're injured."

Call frowned. "I'm fine."

"I doubt that." She had seen the way Call favored one side. 

Call's face softened. "I've never seen a sky at sunset."

Ripley rolled her eyes and didn't answer; there was no need to. 

Call looked pleased with herself, which Ripley found both irritating and endearing. Call pulled a crate under the opening and took a seat. The wince she attempted to hide did not escape Ripley's notice, but she kept quiet. Ripley passed her a gun before dropping a blanket near Call's feet. She crouched down, rolling onto her back, and positioned it beneath her head. Call glanced down. 

"You don't trust me?"

Ripley shook her head. "I like it here." She couldn't articulate that she didn't want to sleep in a cold corner by herself again, how Call's presence comforted her.

Hours later, Ripley woke up and decided to investigate the surrounding area. After sunset, the temperature dropped and their temporary home grew cold, too cold for Johner and Vriess to survive there very long. Call protested. Ripley insisted she keep watch because Vriess and Johner were in no shape to do anything but sleep.

"I won't be gone long." Ripley pulled herself up through the opening, effortless, before the argument started again. 

Call wasn't one to hide her feelings and Ripley could hear her muttering obscenities after her departure. She had never met such a stubborn android. 

***

The next night, Ripley went for supplies. She had seen people filtering in and out of the metro stations, arriving with goods and leaving with different items. One man, always armed, guarded each entrance. Ripley chose a secluded station and hid as best she could. She watched for patterns. The guard looked over the goods people brought and allowed some inside, turning others away. When they argued, the guard waved his gun. If Call had been with her, she would've had to hold her back. Call had more of a sense of justice than any of them, though it seemed to get her into trouble. Ripley didn't fully understand it.

She studied the guard like prey, memorizing his movements. As the line of people arriving grew more sporadic, she moved in. Coming up behind him, she wrapped her forearm around his throat and squeezed. It wasn't difficult. When he stopped fighting, she dropped him quietly and made her way into the station.

When she returned to their shelter, she called out, "It's me." She didn't want to get shot after the night she'd had.

"I know," Call answered from inside. 

Ripley dropped down through the gap and passed an armful of food to Call. 

Call looked at her, wary. "What'd you have to do?"

"Nothing you would object to," Ripley said, shrugging one shoulder. "Not much, anyway."

***

Call wanted to make Vriess a chair, so she and Ripley headed out in the afternoon. They scoured the area, overturning dead appliances and rummaging through vehicles until they found what they needed. Call pulled a loose seat from the helicopter. Ripley grabbed a hand truck missing its handlebar. They took two spare tires from car trunks and carted the items home. Breaking down the parts into something useful took longer than expected. Ripley was tasked with holding pieces steady while Call fit them together. 

By the time they finished the sun still sat beneath the horizon, but shades of orange were diffusing upward. Call fell asleep sitting up in the center of the room. Call had downplayed it, but she'd told Ripley that injury, if it took enough of a toll on her, caused a form of narcolepsy. Her body would conserve energy any way it needed to.

Ripley gathered her in her arms and moved toward their room. Call's circuits fired up, jerking her awake. 

"It's okay," Ripley said.

Call turned her head against Ripley's collarbone and nodded. 

"When are we taking care of that injury?" 

Ripley set her down, careful of her side. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for an actual answer. 

"In the morning, promise."

***

The first time Call kissed her, Ripley felt like she should've seen it coming. 

Call had slept with her head pillowed on Ripley's shoulder since the first night. She'd made a comment that got a genuine smile out of Ripley, telling her how she liked the crinkles that appeared in the corners of Ripley's eyes. She held her hand whenever she wanted to. Ripley had questioned none of it.

Now she found herself standing with Call's legs wrapped around her waist, holding Call propped against the wall and being kissed for all she was worth. As Call's fingers worked diligently at the buttons and zippers of Ripley's clothes, she smiled against Call's lips. 

She never had a chance.

***

Among the rows of somewhat intact apartment buildings, they found one that looked promising: rundown enough to blend into the background and conveniently located. Ripley had staked out the building during one of her nocturnal explorations and brought Call with her the night before to provide input. They took their time scanning the building for obvious instabilities, number of inhabitants, and any other information they could glean. The first floor appeared empty. 

They brought Vriess and Johner to the building. Johner boosted Ripley up high enough for her to climb onto a balcony. She pulled at the metal grid over the window, bending it back until she wrested it free. Vriess was pulled through first, followed by Johner. 

"Nice work, Ripley," Johner said, clapping her on the shoulder.

Call glanced down one side of the alley, then the other before glancing back up at Ripley. She fidgeted, looking anxious to get off the street. They were looking for a somewhat permanent location for Vriess and Johner, but they had agreed they would stay a night or two as well to get a reprieve from the cold. Ripley climbed to the next balcony and started again.

***

Ripley and Call woke at the same time, cocking their heads toward the door to their room. They heard the side stairs creaking under multiple sets of quiet, uniform footsteps. They slid off the bed and crouched to the floor, listening. As the footsteps neared the top of the stairs, they heard the slow slide and click of rifle bolts. 

Call's eyes widened. She turned as quietly as she could manage and crawled to the window. An armored vehicle sat outside with three armed soldiers standing in front of it.

"Fuck," Call whispered. 

Ripley set to work. She pushed at the dull, pitted floorboards under them until she found a spot with more give than the others. She bit down on the pad on the heel of her hand until her top and bottom teeth met. Blood welled up fast. She swiped her hand across the floorboards in a wide circle and the wood immediately began to sizzle. Call grabbed their bag of weapons.

Whispers moved closer to their door. Ripley stood up halfway, avoiding being seen through the window. She didn't have time for the blood to wear all the way through, so she lifted her foot and slammed her boot against the center of the circle. The wood barely had time to hit the floor below before the soldiers in the hallway were at their door. 

Ripley moved behind Call and held her around the middle, jumping through the makeshift escape hatch. They fell away from each other as they landed, but Call recovered fast and pulled weapons from their bag. The soldiers threw themselves against the door. Call tossed Ripley a pulse rifle and she caught it just as the door crashed open above them. 

Ripley raised her rifle and tracked their footsteps. As a soldier approached the hole in the floor, Ripley fired a short burst through the floorboards. He screamed and as he fell to the ground, Ripley fired again, perforating the floor in a sweeping arc. More screams could be heard, followed by return fire. Chips of wood flew downward as bullets ripped through the planks. 

Ripley and Call jumped out of the line of fire. Call aimed a short automatic rifle and paused just long enough to listen for shuffling sounds before unleashing a barrage of fire. More bodies thudded to the ground. Ripley had moved to the basement stairs and motioned for Call to follow. 

Before reaching the top of the stairs, they heard a soldier drop down into the basement. Ripley picked up speed, Call right behind her. They stormed through the door to the hallway, only to hear Johner's muffled shout. As they rounded the corner, two soldiers kicked in Vriess and Johner's door. One was met by a blast from Vriess's shotgun, but the other opened fire on the room. Ripley clamped her hand over Call's mouth as she screamed. 

Call's feet gave out beneath her and Ripley caught her, tugging her in the opposite direction. 

Call fought against Ripley's grasp. Her voice was strained. "Ripley, we can't leave them! We can't!"

Ripley dragged her bodily from the building as more shots went off. The soldiers in front of the armored vehicle were missing, and Ripley had a good idea where they were.

"Ripley—"

Ripley cut her off. "They're dead, Call, and we're going to die with them if we don't get moving."

***

They ran south. Call's stride was shorter than Ripley's, but she pushed herself hard, occasionally setting the pace with an angry determination. Once they cleared the dense configuration of buildings and broke well past the city limits, they ducked behind an overgrown petrol station. Pulling the map from her pocket, Call plotted a route they both could agree upon. Call's explanations were terse, and she avoided Ripley's gaze. Ripley wanted nothing more than to reassure her, but when she softened her voice, Call bristled.

They ran for half a day before the landscape changed. Scorched remnants of forests gave way to occasional pockets of trees. Running at night was more difficult, and it took nearly a full day for them to reach their destination. They had barely spoken. 

Call navigated them to a valley near a river. There was a chance the river had dried up, but Ripley agreed that it was their best chance within a day's time. Mostly she wanted to give Call something she could control, something she had a choice in. 

They chose a park where the trees were thick. The grass had gone brown, but flowers still sprinkled the waterline. They broke into the maintenance shed for the grounds and were half asleep before all their limbs made contact with the floor. 

***

Neither of them slept well. Ripley woke more than once to the sound of Call quietly crying before they both fell back into a fitful sleep.

When Call reached for her during the night, Ripley welcomed it. She expected Call's touch to be an outlet for her anger and regret, expected it to be rough and demanding. She should have known better. While Call's hands were urgent, only taking time to unfasten Ripley's pants before working a hand inside, her touch was gentle. 

Ripley knew Call had lingering shame about her nature. Plastic blood. Vat-grown muscle. But with a lap full of Call, flushed chest to cheekbones, nothing about her seemed artificial to Ripley.

Call gazed at her steadily, watching each emotion flicker across her face. Ripley indulged her. She took Call's hand and pressed it against the side of her neck. Call had a motor in place of a heart, and Ripley saw her eyes light up when she felt the rhythm of Ripley's pulse beat against her palm. As her fingers worked between Ripley's thighs, the pulse fluttered faster. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Call's smile never failed to comfort Ripley—it let her know they were going to be okay. They were a team no matter what, and they would find their way in this world together.


End file.
